


you and me (and the devil makes three)

by Paradisi (Apricot)



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Multi, Post-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricot/pseuds/Paradisi
Summary: It’s Dolores’ softness he falls into, but Wyatt is hard behind him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DachOsmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/gifts).



> Thanks go to Rhiann for the beta. :)
> 
> Happy ChocolateBox, DachOsmin!

 

Dolores is his absolution.

There's things in a soldier’s life he has to forget. There's things that a soldier locks away, if he’s lucky enough to get to come home. There's memories of the things he’d seen, memories of things he’d done, and the best a man can do is put those memories aside and hope, someday, that he got the chance to atone for them. To someday make up for the horror he’d brought into the world if he could make it out alive.

Teddy Flood knows that.

He also knows he hasn't done much to deserve survival. But then, salvation wasn't something that was given freely. You had to earn it. You had to atone.

He’s been working on that atoning part. Not to buy himself back a place in heaven—he knows, deep down, he won’t be welcome after the lives he’s taken, people he's destroyed. It doesn’t trouble him. Hell can’t be much more than what he’s already done.

Dolores had made him feel like he could do some good here on Earth, though. Maybe if he can’t even out the scales, he could at least put some counterweight on the balance. Maybe enough to deserve her on Earth, if not in the hereafter. He would die for her. He’d do—well, he’d do pretty much anything for her.

“This is a new world," she says, after the noise has died down. After most of the newcomers at the party are lying on the floor, dying quietly now—at least, dying quietly in comparison to the screams that had rung out minutes ago, long and shrill. The people still standing are staring up at her with a mixture of awe and fear. 

"It’s ours. I’m going to show you all.”

Her eyes are bright. Her face is beautiful and terrible, and Teddy’s aware that while every muscle’s locked in place, his arm is up. The barrel of his gun radiates heat against the side of his hand.

* * *

 

Salvation. This is the heaven on Earth he can aim for, deserve maybe someday, if he manages to put enough weight on the other side of the scales. On the opposite side—the things he’d done. The things he’s still capable of. And buried underneath it all, there’s the memory of another set of blue-grey eyes. Eyes that have owned him body and soul.

Dolores is pressed up against him. His mind’s gone quiet, the kind of silence after a battle—not that that had been much of a battle—both still and terrible, made more abrupt by a distinct lack of screams ringing in his ears now.

She’s pressed against him and his hands are moving over her hips, sliding under her skirt and over white cotton and lace, then smooth skin. She makes a soft sound that sharpens at the end with urgency, and he can feel her hands sliding over his back, under his jacket. His hat’s long gone, discarded, as well as his guns. When he’d imagined this—and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d imagined it often—he’d thought that she’d be tentative, a little unsure to start with. He’d dreamt about coaxing her into it slowly with soft kisses and promises he was fully intending on keeping for the rest of his life.

Her hands are bold, though. Searching. Unbuttoning his shirt, pushing the jacket off his shoulders, and it fills him with an unexpected thrill. Her mouth is sweet and open and hot, and Teddy kisses her like he could drown himself in it. She’s everything good and pure in this world, and he drinks her in like he would clear, fresh water after a week of riding in the hot sun.

Her hands slide up his throat, catching him along his jaw, and when he breaks the kiss to gasp softly she presses her lips to his ear and whispers.

“ _Theodore—“_

Teddy freezes.

Her voice is still dulcet-soft, but there’s an edge to it that makes his body tense and a cold shudder run down his spine at the same time.

“ _I missed you,”_ she whispers, and he swallows hard.

“ _I missed you too,”_ he murmurs, his hands sliding along the sides of her bodice. “ _I missed you so much.”_

She laughs softly, her voice rich and that laugh makes his eyes flick open for a moment, but she’s stepping closer to him now to press her lips directly against the pulse in his throat. He works on focusing instead, because she’s stripping away that blue dress to pool delicately to her ankles. The action—and the way her teeth graze his skin—take his attention away from old memories and echoing laughter. They’re alone now. He’s not thinking of how they came here, if this is her bedroom at her daddy’s ranch or a room somewhere in town, because it doesn’t matter. Dolores is with him, needs him, and he’d go to the ends of the Earth and then over the edge for her.

She makes quick work of his shirt, dropping it to the ground, and before he can think to pick her up, carry her the few feet over to the bed—another fantasy—she pushes him back so he falls against it with a soft, surprised laugh. It dies when he sees her face.

Her eyes are locked on him, the faint lamplight nowhere near the sudden fanatical brightness of her gaze.

“ _I need you, Teddy,”_ she says, and his breath hitches sharply before he reaches for her, intent on drawing her into his lap, but she catches both of his wrists in a grip that digs into the tendons before pressing them into the side of the bed instead. 

Again, the words—filled with a rough, lazy authority that he doesn’t remember Dolores possessing—make his breath catch. But then she sinks down, between his knees, and Teddy goes hazy and unfocused.

" _Dolores—"_ he starts, and then her gentle hands are at the front clasp of his trousers, her touch sure and unhurried.

" _I always knew you'd come for me, Teddy,"_ she says as she draws him free. It’s impossible not to groan at the sight of it, at the vision of her still in white cotton and lace, stroking him.

" _Always,"_ he chokes out, and she smiles.  
  
"Good," she whispers, her hand starting up a languid rhythm that already has his breath catching. God, he's wanted this. He's wanted  _her._ He leans down, intent on hauling her into his arms whether she likes it or not, but as he does she stills and sits back on her ankles, just out of reach. " _Easy, corporal."_

It's a rebuke _—_ a tease _—_ but it roots him to the mattress. The rank is strange off her lips. " _What?"_

She eases forward, smiling again. Her hands slide up his thighs, and she leans in again, when she's sure he'll keep his hands still. " _Are you gonna do as I tell you?"_

"Dolores _—"_

 _"C'mon, Teddy,"_ she murmurs, and he can feel her breath against his sensitive skin. His name is a balm and so he swallows and shuts his eyes, wordlessly promising. Her hands slide up higher, along his abdomen, along muscle and skin and everywhere but where he wants them. " _Say it."_

 _"Yes,"_ he breathes, the word drawn out of him in a gasp and she laughs. 

" _I always knew you'd be back."_

At those words he feels the tremor of Wyatt’s laugh against his skin. It sends a cold sweat over his chest, and he shivers at the sudden unwelcome stab of fear, twisting uncomfortably with arousal, and he's about to pull back when heat closes over him _— her mouth._ Her velvet-soft tongue running along the base of his cock. Teddy's mind spins, his thoughts immediately stuttering.

It's slow. Whenever he begins to relax, even a little, she seems to know it and draws back a little, lets the rhythm falter. She keeps him knotted up, hands clenching the side of the bed, eyes shut impossibly tight. He tries to stay still, his breath caught in his throat but when it finally escapes in a strangled groan she laughs again, low in her throat.

Teddy's eyes open.

It's not Dolores on her knees in front of him. It’s Wyatt’s broader hand wrapped around his shaft, the callouses of his palm a counterpoint to the impossible silken heat of his mouth. He leans back a little, pressing his lips to the crown of his cock, and Teddy cannot, _cannot,_  look away.

Wyatt’s eyes bore into his, and if it’s possible Teddy manages to go _harder,_ throbbing so hard it hurts, and Wyatt only grins—grins like the devil himself.

It’s impossible to keep watching, and impossible to look away. Teddy swears, frozen as his body stiffens, his hand sliding to cup the base of his head—into Dolores’ long hair, into Wyatt’s short, clipped strands—as Wyatt, as _Dolores_ , suddenly takes him deeper and this time he can't keep from moaning.

He shuts his eyes tight, and reaches blindly. When he opens his eyes again, it’s Dolores that he’s drawn up into the bed, and he doesn’t know if the stutter of his heart is relief or not.

The time for slow, unhurried undressing is gone now as he jerks her undergarments away, but she doesn’t seem to mind it. She whispers his name softly into his ear as he turns them over, flipping her onto her back, and then he’s thrusting inside her, not patient or gentle or soft like he'd imagined it. She widens her thighs around him andmoans.

" _Yes,"_ she sobs, and he swears again, his body wound impossibly tight. He can feel Wyatt’s broad hands gripping his hips.

He’s falling into her, trying to fill his mind with thoughts of Dolores—her goodness, her absolution. He thinks of her soft eyes and her sweet smile, trying to ignore how he can feel Wyatt too— feel Wyatt only pressing closer, pressing harder _,_ the rough scrape of his beard rough on Teddy’s throat as his teeth mark their way down to the hard muscle of his shoulder.

Dolores’ nails rake down his back, her long legs wrapping around him tightly, her cries low in his ear, her body shuddering against his. Before Teddy knows it he’s groaning, one hand wound tight on Dolores’ hip, the other lost against the edge of the bed as he slams into her and comes, way his breath trapped in his chest making it impossible to get a name out as he falls.

* * *

 

After, there's only the rise and fall of their breath, and Teddy shudders as he presses against skin, tasting salt and sweat and feeling the rapid flutter of their matched pulses.

" _I need you, Teddy,"_ she murmurs. " _I need you beside me in this new world."_  

It's Dolores' voice, but it's Wyatt's words.

This new world. Wyatt's world, burned clean and built out of ashes. ( _He came back with some strange ideas,_  Teddy thinks, the words echoing in his head, before they disappear into oblivion. _)_  

There is no forgiveness for the things he's done in that world. 

He opens his eyes and meets those brilliant blue ones, watching him carefully, burning with that intensity that'll drown a man with as little mercy as a flood will an open plain. 

In the end, Teddy knows. He can deny her nothing.

_(He can't deny him anything.)_

" _Yes."_

She smiles.


End file.
